


Stephen Strange One-Shots

by bodhirooks



Category: Avengers: Endgame - Fandom, Avengers: Infinity War - Fandom, Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, CaptainIronStrange, Confessions, Cuddles, Fights, Gravitational Anomalies, Ignoring Endgame, IronStrange, Lots of fix-its, Love, M/M, Mentions of Aladdin - Freeform, Mentions of Bojack Horseman, Multi, Nudity, Stony - Freeform, Strogers, Undisclosed Villain, Worange, fix-its, implied sex, sick fics, strordo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-07 08:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19205941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirooks/pseuds/bodhirooks
Summary: A collection of Stephen-centric shorts!See chapters for individual summaries~





	1. Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> IronStrange/Worange
> 
> Stephen and Wong are down in the dumps. Tony joins them.

The smell of burnt parchment and musty furniture reached Tony’s nose before the door to the Sanctum even opened. Taking a deep breath—why was he nervous?—the billionaire knocked on what was probably the most ancient piece of wood he’d seen in his life, waiting patiently. Sighing after a moment of impatience, he raised his hand to knock again, but the door swung open with a deep groan. Frowning curiously, Tony stepped inside.

No one had opened the door, but that didn’t surprise him. After all the shit he’d seen Tony Stark wasn’t about to be surprised by a door that opened itself. Stepping inside, hands deep in his pockets, the billionaire sauntered towards the sole light source. The blue glow of a television screen seeped onto the uneven floorboards from the equivalent of the living-room. “Hello?” Tony called, rounding the corner.

What the man saw made him huff a disbelieving laugh.

Dr. Stephen Strange, MD, Ph.D., Master of the Mystic Arts and Sorcerer Supreme, had dragged a mattress into the middle of the room and was curled up watching BoJack Horseman on Netflix. And, less to Tony’s surprise, the sorcerer was being spooned by Wong.

Nice.

“Watching cartoons to drown our sorrows?” he teased, announcing his presence. Both heads shot up, but quickly settled back down, comfortable with their friend’s presence.

“Yes,” Stephen replied flatly. He sounded exhausted. Looked it, too. And his eyes were puffy.

“And you didn’t invite me?” Tony bemoaned, tone-of-voice affronted, sitting leisurely in one of the Sanctum’s large armchairs.

“Three is a crowd,” Wong huffed.

Tony grunted his acknowledgment. “You know that show isn’t exactly a pick-me-up.” Only silence met his pithy remark. “I take it you didn’t find Mordo, then…”

Stephen was deathly silent. And just as the weird theme song started playing, too.

Wong sighed. “What do you think, Stark?”

Tony leaned back in his chair, willing it to smother him with its cushy maroon fabric. In all honesty he felt bad for the wizards. The pair of them had been looking for their estranged fellow-sorcerer ever since the snap had been reversed. In a moment of vulnerability Stephen had told him about Mordo rescuing him from the streets of Kathmandu and vouching for him to the Ancient One, about how the man trained him and mentored him in the Mystic Arts, about how heartbroken Stephen was when the man who’d become his best friend walked away. So he’d insisted on being kept up to speed on the quest for Karl Mordo.

Tony’s reminiscences were interrupted by an unexpected, small sob from Stephen. “Why is this dumb horse so relatable?” he asked, a lopsided smile on his face despite a few tears on his cheeks. Tony couldn’t quite see Stephen’s eyes from this angle, but his heart still ached for the sorcerer.

“Good writers,” Wong replied succinctly. Tony grinned, but a sort of lonely feeling crawled its way from his stomach into his chest. Damn it.

“Okay, scooch back. I’m joining the cuddle puddle.” Tony tripped his way onto the mattress, laying down in front of Stephen. “Now spoon me, mister.”

Stephen huffed, but he wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist and dragged the man’s back against his chest, burrowing his face into Tony’s neck. “That’s ‘Doctor’ to you,” he mumbled, though there wasn’t much heart in his words. That made Tony sad.

“I’m falling off the mattress,” Wong complained.

“Listen, I know three’s a crowd, but I deserve to wallow just as much as you,” Tony insisted. Iron Man still hadn’t quite recovered from whole Thanos ordeal. It was hard to go about with a smile on his face when it pulled at the scars on his right temple and cheek. No one had dared to mention it. Except Peter, who insisted it was cool and ‘edgy.’ And Stephen, who said he could give less of a shit about scars. That frankness reassured Tony, and remembering it made him feel a lot better right now. Along with sharing Stephen’s body-heat.

Wong wasn’t appeased. “I know you’re used to king-sized mattresses, Stark, but-”

“I can’t hear the show,” Stephen interjected. “This is perfectly comfortable.”  
  
“Well that’s because you’re in the middle of the sandwich!” Tony reminded him. “Check your privilege.”  
  
“I’m the only member of a minority here, Stark.”

“Shut up Wong, you know what I mean. But we’re both suffering as endpieces, show some solidarity.”

“Should we just turn the show-off?” Stephen grumbled.

“Don’t be cranky, Strange,” Wong scolded.

“I have every reason to be.”

A beat of silence passed, and they all settled down, shifting until they were in the perfect, squished position where everyone could see the screen, even as their eyes drifted shut.

“We know, Stephen.”

They still had a lot more searching to do.


	2. Solutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IronStrange/Worange
> 
> Tony visits the Sanctum at the wrong time.

 

“What are we up to, busy-bodies?”

Tony meant that quite literally. Stephen and Wong were buzzing around one of the Sanctum’s antechambers, flipping through books that littered the floor and the desks and the shelves, some suspended in the air. Whatever it was, it was probably urgent, so Tony decided to hang back, leaning against the doorframe with one hand in his pocket. 

“Trying to reverse a gravitational anomaly,” Stephen replied, breezing past Tony on his way across the room. The Cloak of Levitation fluttered behind him. Tony wasn’t sure whether to cop that up to aerodynamics or the pair of them being dramatic. Neither would surprise him.

“Gravitational anomaly where?” he asked curiously. Another dimension, maybe?

“Here,” Wong answered succinctly. 

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Here…? In the Sanctum?” 

“Yes,” was the two-voiced reply. 

Tony shouldn’t have bothered asking. Just as he went to open his big fat mouth the entire room spun on its head, sending him tumbling from the floor to the ceiling. Stephen and Wong simply floated from one to the other, not missing a beat as they continued searching for a solution. Assholes.

Catching his breath, Tony shrugged his shoulders, recovering his bearings. “So. I was gonna suggest we order a pizza or something since you two never remember to eat, but I guess this is a bad time.”

“Yeah, little bit,” Stephen nodded.

“Y’know if this house wasn’t occupied by wizards that anomaly you got there would be pretty annoying.”    
  
“Yes, it would be,” Wong agreed.

Tony glared at Wong. “You really never laugh, do you?” he accused.

“I’m laughing on the inside.”

Huffing, Tony glanced up at the floor, which was weird in and of itself, but made frustrating by the fact the door was now high above his head. “Well I guess I’m stuck with you guys. Still hungry, though.” To his surprise the Cloak of Levitation lifted itself from Stephen’s shoulders, floating to his side and settling on his shoulders instead. “Hey there… Okay…” 

“It’ll take you to the kitchen,” Stephen explained, his nose still stuck in one of the books. He hadn’t even glanced at Tony yet. Probably for the best. The faster he could reverse this the faster they could have their weekly movie night. “Just don’t take anything from the third shelf of the fridge. If you try to eat it, it might try to eat you.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Tony groused, and with that the Cloak took him soaring up and out.

By the time Tony came back he could actually walk into the room, feet on the floor like a normal person, the gravitational anomaly now fixed. “I grabbed some leftover noodles but I ordered a pizza anyways. Because I wanted one.”

“Good, I’m starving,” Wong announced, now comfortably situated on the couch, Stephen pressed against his side. The sorcerers had brought the TV out, and Strange was perusing their options on Netflix, the remote shaking in his hand. As long as he wasn’t hurting himself Wong and Tony let him take his time.

“Suggestions?” Stephen prompted. 

“Maybe we can have a Disney night? I dunno, nothing too heavy,” Tony requested, sitting on the other side of Stephen as he set the takeout boxes on the coffee table. 

“Classic Disney or shitty Disney?” Stephen asked. 

“Animated or live-action?” Wong furthered.

“Animated, duh! Not one of the sequels.” 

“Aladdin?” Stephen suggested. 

“Great! We can watch it before seeing the shitty remake.” That made Stephen chuckle. Soon enough they were all huddled together, knit-picking the film, praising Robin Williams and enjoying a hard-earned pizza.


	3. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worange
> 
> Stephen spills the beans.

Stephen took a deep breath, heart hammering in his chest, preparing to bare his soul. Everything had been building up to this. Stealing his nerves, Stephen spoke. “I like you, Wong.” 

They were standing in the foyer of the Sanctum, wearing casual clothes, having just returned from an outing to the grocery store. The pair hadn’t bought much, always drastically low on money, and Stephen had been caught staring at Wong in an unambiguously longing way. 

So Stephen confessed. 

Wong just quirked an eyebrow.

After a beat of awkward silence Stephen elaborated. “Like, like-like you,” he clarified, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“What are you, twelve?” 

Stephen trained his gaze on the old wood floor, embarrassed. The sorcerer took a second to compose himself before looking back up. “Right, okay, I guess we’ll just pretend that never happened,” he announced, heading towards the kitchen, intent on putting the groceries away to distract himself from that brutal rejection. 

“Wait, Stephen…” Wong rested a hand on his elbow gently, stopping him. 

Slowly, Stephen turned around, cheeks red. “Just forget it, Wong…” he insisted. 

Wong shook his head, setting down the grocery-bag he carried, moving to hold both of Stephen’s hands very carefully in his. Stephen wasn’t carrying any groceries: Wong had insisted. “I am sorry, Stephen. That was an immature response.” 

Stephen let out a heavy sigh through his nose, still not making eye-contact. “Yeah, no, you got that right.”

“I like you, too.” 

Chin snapping up, Stephen blinked, scrutinizing Wong’s face with some astonishment. “Wait, what?”

“I like you too, Stephen,” the man repeated. 

Stephen could hardly believe it. “Really…?” he asked, voice much more quiet, almost afraid the other sorcerer would reneg and take it back.

“Really,” Wong insisted, a rare, sweet smile lighting up his face. Stephen couldn’t resist smiling back. 

“Like, like-like me?” Stephen had to make sure this was clear, just in case. 

Amused, Wong nodded. “Like-like,” he assured. 

Stephen beamed, ecstatic and relieved. “Good…” he breathed, not entirely sure where to go from here. The man had barely thought his feelings out, let alone contemplated what this new relationship might look like. Wong seemed to understand.

“Yes, very good,” he agreed, leaning in to give Stephen a brief kiss on the cheek before stooping to pick up the groceries. “Now let’s get these in the fridge before they spoil.” 

“Yeah, let’s do that…” Stephen echoed, still flustered as he followed Wong into the kitchen, feeling warm and happy. Who knows what this all might lead to. Stephen didn’t, but he was surprisingly okay with that. 

Besides, Wong always said it was best to go with the flow.


	4. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strordo
> 
> Mordo returns. Stephen doesn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some light angst!

Stephen’s vision narrowed. 

His entire world collapsed into a slim tunnel of light, leading him to Karl Mordo. Stephen hadn’t seen him in six years. The rogue sorcerer had disappeared in a fit of existential rage, insisting he must find his own way, abandon the path laid for them by the Ancient One, forged of secrets. But Mordo had been keeping secrets of his own: hadn’t told Stephen where he was, hadn’t told Wong if he’d survived the snap. Now the universe had been set to rights. Karl had come home.

Stephen choked on a sob. 

“Strange…” Mordo breathed, an uncertain smile creeping onto his face. They stood apart, not daring to touch each other, to hold each other the way they used to. Mordo knew he’d broken Stephen’s trust, his heart, couldn’t even bring himself to call the man by his first name.

The man who was now Sorcerer Supreme.

But Stephen Strange had little to no idea what he was doing. Responsibility upon responsibility had been heaped on his shoulders, leaving him staggering in a desperate attempt to carry the load, to keep moving forward. He’d tried to forget about Mordo. It had been hard.

And here he was in front of him, impossible to forget now. 

Stephen didn’t try to hold back the tears anymore, just let them flow silently as he approached his old friend, his love. It was too good to be true. It had to be. 

“What do you want?” he asked, voice cracking but mind resolved. Stephen refused to get his hopes up.

Mordo sighed, the sound containing depths of regret and apology and sorrow. “Your forgiveness,” he said simply.

Torn apart at the seams, Stephen slowly shook his head. “I don’t know if I can give that to you.”

Mordo’s wane smile tightened, and he shook his head, exasperated. He hadn’t expected his redemption to be easy, but he hadn’t thought Stephen would be so cold. “Stephen-”

“No,” the other man interrupted, holding up a single, trembling finger. “No, I cannot make this decision as Stephen. Not even as Doctor Strange. I have to make this decision as Sorcerer Supreme, do you understand that?” There was something frenetic about Stephen’s words, nearly unhinged.

Mordo bowed his head. “Yes, I do.” 

With a sigh of his own Stephen nodded. “Okay. But later, we’ll do that all later… For right now-” Stephen’s resolve abruptly cracked, and he hurried to the other sorcerer, tossing his arms around his other half, the missing part of his life he’d never recovered. Until now. “Karl…” 

“Stephen, I have you…” Karl murmured, closing his eyes, holding the man tightly, one hand resting in Stephen’s mop of hair. “I have you now, I won’t let you go… I won’t leave again…”    
  
Stephen sniffled. “You’d better not…” he grumbled. That made Karl laugh. The same Stephen was under all that misery somewhere, he knew. Now it was his job to right the wrongs, to rediscover the man he’d fallen in love with. 

But that would take time.

The kind of time they wanted, but most likely didn’t have.


	5. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IronStrange
> 
> Stephen and Tony bask in the afterglow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teensy-weensy bit of smut and some nudity ahead!

Panting, Tony collapsed onto Stephen’s chest, their bodies slick with sweat. Beneath him Stephen tensed, his back arching as he found his release, tightening around Anthony and moaning. The sorcerer’s eyelashes fluttered, obscene and beautiful and entrancing. Tony leaned down to kiss said eyelashes, his lips covering the man’s brow for a moment before moving to the other one, tender and gentle, pulling out as he did.

“That tickles…” Stephen said, voice hoarse. Strange was surprisingly vocal in bed, and Tony loved that beyond all reason.

Tony let out a huff of laughter. “What, me kissing you or my dick in your ass?”

“Shut up.” Stephen swatted Tony’s chest before pushing him off, the two rolling onto their sides, facing each other. Stephen looked gorgeous: flushed and sated and happy, pupils still blown wide and his lips swollen. Beautiful.

“No one has ever succeeded in making me,” Tony warned him, running a hand through the man’s thick head of hair. 

Stephen closed his eyes, evidently enjoying the touch, shifting so he was slightly closer. “I bet I can make you,” he determined.

“Try me,” Tony encouraged, quirking an eyebrow, wondering if it were truly possible. Could Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, make Tony Stark shut up? Unlikely.

“Not now,” Stephen conceded. “Too sore.” 

“Good sore?”

“Best sore.”

“Don’t you have some sort of intergalactic magic meeting?” 

Stephen huffed a laugh. “Nice try.”

Tony grumbled, defeated. “It worked that one time. Freaked you out.”

“It did,” Stephen admitted, slowly sitting up, the bedsheets pooling around his waist. The sorcerer was all long limbs and creamy pale skin, a few dark scars littered here and there. Tony was in the habit of kissing each and every one of them. 

Stretching his arms above his head, Tony let out a happy hum before sitting up as well, leaving a brief kiss on Stephen’s shoulder. “You’re too much, you know that?”

Stephen shook his head fondly, letting one of his shaking fingers graze over Tony’s chest, tracing the spot where the Arc Reactor once sat. “I’ve been told,” he teased.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about…” Tony tutted, planting a kiss on the sorcerer’s chin, forcing himself off the bed. “I’ll go find a cloth or something.” 

Stephen nodded, standing up as well, taking the blanket with him. When Tony returned Stephen had abandoned the blanket, leaving it to the floor, looking himself over in an oblong mirror that definitely wasn’t there before. The sorcerer ran his thumbs over his bruised hips, the bite-marks littering his chest and abdomen, a prominent hickey high on his neck. He seemed proud of them.

Tony was, too. Smirking, he sidled up behind his lover, leaving a soft trail of kisses across his shoulders. “Like my handiwork?” he teased. 

Stephen chuckled low in his throat, sending subtle vibrations across both their skin. “Yes, I do,” he assured him. 

Satisfied, Tony took the damp cloth he’d been holding, sliding it down Stephen’s chest, nudging the man’s legs apart so he could clean him up. Stephen let out a happy sigh, closing his eyes, leaning back against Tony, obviously tired. “We can nap after this if you want,” Tony suggested, more than willing to sleep the day away. “Nap as long as we want, and nobody can stop us.” 

“Would anyone try?” Stephen wondered, though any number of things could go sideways in the span of a day. They were superheroes, after all, even if neither of them liked the title. 

Tony shrugged, taking Stephen by the shoulders and guiding him back to the bed. “Someone might. But they’d better have a damn good reason.”    
  
Stephen grinned, laying back down. “They’d better,” he agreed. Tony crawled on top of him, letting their chests brush together, a teasing grin on his face. Stephen rolled his eyes. “Down, boy.” Tony flopped beside him instead.

“Stephen?”

“Yes…?” the sorcerer hummed, heavy eyes already falling shut, a curtain of pearly skin and black lashes over sky-blue irises.

“Love you.” 

A smile lit up Stephen’s face, just before he drifted off. “I love you too, Tony…” 

Tony smiled back, surrendering to sleep.


	6. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strogers/Stony/IronStrange/CaptainIronStrange
> 
> Steve and Tony find Stephen in bad shape after a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like we needed some CaptainIronStrange because Endgame destroyed us and we should all get along ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Stephen didn’t know what had happened. The sorcerer had been catapulting through the stars, into the Dark Dimension, the Mirror Dimension, the Nightmare Dimension, in and out, in and out, jockeyed between some of the most dangerous beings in the universe. He’d raised his hands, opened his mouth to scream—

And it all stopped. Just like that. He lay surrounded by a swath of the multiverse, curled around him like a blanket, before he panicked and scrambled to open a portal, dragged himself through—

Strange found himself in a tiled kitchen. Light flooded through the windows of the Avenger’s Compound, making him squint, groaning as pressed his shaking palms to the ground, peeled himself off the floor and into a sitting position. He took a deep breath, then two. There were people in the compound, their voices growing louder, approaching down the hall. 

“If you don’t can it Rogers I’ll have to-” Tony rounded the corner, stopping in the doorway, lips parted in surprise as he saw the sorcerer on the floor. “Stephen!” 

Stephen gave Tony a feeble smile before his arms gave out, sending him back to the floor. Tony caught him just in time, sparing his head from hitting the ground. “Stephen, babe, look at me.” Tony’s voice was firm, but his breathing was forced. “Stephen, open your eyes right now!”

“Tony, what’s going-?” Steve was there, too, his footsteps pounding far too close to Stephen’s head. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know, he just collapsed!”

“Let’s get him to the medical bay...”

Stephen could feel himself being lifted, but he was far too tired or weak to complain about his sore muscles, or part his lips and speak words of assurance. The sorcerer just let himself be whisked away by Steve Rogers and unconsciousness.

When he woke it was to see two concerned faces staring down at him.

“Oh God…” Tony covered his mouth with one hand, leaning back and closing his eyes. Stephen frowned up at him. Was it that bad…?

Steve let out a sigh of relief. “There he is,” the soldier said, smiling at least. “How are you feeling? Can you speak?”

Stephen’s throat was scratchy, but he nodded, finally peeling his eyes open all the way. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine…” he mumbled, feeling a headache coming on. “It was just a thing…”

Tony huffed, unhappy with the explanation. “Yeah, okay, just any old thing,” he humphed, clearly more upset than he wanted to let on. Stark really was the softest of the trio, despite the roots of his name.

“Is it a  _ thing _ we need to worry about again?” Steve asked, always on top of clarifying matters. Stephen shook his head ‘no.’ He didn’t think it was, at least. “Good.” Satisfied, Steve carded his fingers through Stephen’s hair slowly. “Want to talk about it?” Stephen shook his head again.

They were in the medical bay, eerily quiet but blissfully alone. Between the three of them they were here far too often. Whether it was Steve with bullets in his shoulders, Stephen with magical ailments or Tony with bruises and sleep deprivation, they weren’t the definition of healthy. But every time something happened they were just as worried for each other. It was a stable relationship, despite all. 

“How are your fingers?” Tony asked, almost out of the blue, scooping Stephen’s hands off the cot, kissing along his knuckles, soothing the shake. Stephen smiled up at him, at both of them, feeling cared-for and loved. Almost pampered. 

“Normal,” he replied, the single word conveying both the sorcerer’s exasperation and apology. Sometimes Stephen felt like he was (unintentionally) the most high-maintenance, but neither Steve nor Tony seemed to mind. They were always by Stephen’s side, always ready to help if he needed them. He loved them both for it, truly.

“And the rest of you?” Tony prodded, still kissing his fingers. Steve ran a hand down Tony’s back, soothing him. 

“Less than ideal,” Stephen admitted, a crooked grin on his face. “Feeling better already.” 

Steve nodded his approval, leaning down to kiss Stephen’s forehead before straightening up to kiss Tony’s. “Good. That’s the most we can expect from you right now. Just rest, alright?”

Stephen acknowledged the soldier’s words with a hum. “Alright.”

Tony took a deep breath. Stephen could visualize the gears churning in his brain, rationalizing the situation, warding off anxiety. “He’s right,” the man announced, straightening up, letting Stephen’s hands go. “You rest. We’ll be right here when you wake up.” Tony leaned down to give Stephen a kiss as well, first one on the cheek, then two on the lips, gentle. Tony was more profuse with physical expressions of love than either Steve or Stephen, but kisses were always welcomed. “We love you…” 

Stephen smiled, yawning slightly before he closed his eyes, drifting off, feeling nothing but safe with his lovers beside him, shining like stars.


	7. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strogers/Stony/IronStrange/CaptainIronStrange
> 
> Stephen is sick at home.

Stephen wiped his mouth, hands shaking harder than usual as he pushed himself away from the toilet bowl. Taking a deep breath, he turned up his nose, trying to capture clean air, only smelling his own vomit. The nausea had struck very suddenly, overwhelmingly, sending the sorcerer rushing to the bathroom. Now he’d been in there for fifteen minutes.

Stephen was pretty sure Steve and Tony weren’t home yet. The billionaire had bought the trio a penthouse in Brooklyn—a gift for Steve, but tailored to Stephen’s needs, with flat pulls on the doors instead of handles and other little conveniences. That certainly made it easier to be alone for the moment, the sorcerer dragging himself off the floor and out of the bathroom after he’d flushed. Stephen was happy to be alone a few hours ago, portalling into the living room to relax, but now he wanted the company, making his way into the bedroom to stretch out on the bed face down, groaning.  

He must have drifted off, because the next time he woke Stephen could hear voices in the kitchen. The sound of Tony’s laughter made him smile, but he didn’t have enough energy to keep it up for long, his stomach gurgling uncomfortably again. What was wrong with him…? 

The sorcerer listened to the sound of footsteps against the wood floor until a pair of them abruptly paused, just inside the bedroom. “Stephen…?” 

Moments later the bed dipped, and a familiar hand ran down his back. “Stephen, you alright?” Steve repeated, voice laced with concern as he massaged Stephen’s shoulders with his palm. “We didn’t know you were here.”

Stephen grumbled again. “No…” 

“Why not…?” Steve prompted gently. 

Stephen’s brows creased as he spoke, mumbling into the comforter. “Was vomiting.” 

After a moment of silence Steve raised his voice. “Tony! Can you come in here, please?” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Tony replied, the slick smile on his face morphing into a frown as he entered the room. “Stephen, what’s wrong?” he breathed, skipping over to the bed.

“He’s been throwing up while we were gone,” Steve answered, continuing to rub the sorcerer’s back.

“Shit…” A quiet moment passed before anyone moved. Tony laid down beside Stephen, face-down, trying to get his lover to look him in the eye. “Need anything, babe?” he asked, resting a hand on the back of Stephen’s head, playing with the small curls there.

“No…” Stephen grumbled. “... Yes…” 

“Tums?”

“Gross.” 

“I’ll get some Tums.” The mattress shifted as Tony stood up again. Stephen sighed. He just wanted to nap with his boyfriends and wake up feeling better.

Stephen must have said that out loud, because Steve lifted him up for a moment, pulling back the blankets before settling him back down and crawling in beside him. “That can be arranged,” the soldier affirmed. “Now can you flip onto your back? Tony has those tablets for you.” 

“I do indeed,” Tony repeated, sitting on Stephen’s other side, helping him flop onto his back before passing him the Tums. The man was fast; the sorcerer hadn’t even heard him leave the bedroom. Stephen took the Tums in his shaking fingers, chewing them reluctantly. He nearly gagged. Tony sighed. “I know the texture is disgusting, but you’ll feel better soon enough.” 

“Thanks…” Stephen said through a grimace. The sorcerer closed his eyes, snuggling in between Tony and Steve, feeling their warmth, their weight. Soon enough his stomach began to settle, and he smiled slightly.

“Better?” Tony asked.

“Better,” he replied, and within moments Stephen was asleep, tucked into bed with the two loves of his life. 


	8. End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IronStrange
> 
> Stephen's caught up in the fight of his life. It might be the last fight of his life.
> 
> TW: Violence, Ambiguous Character Death

Stephen could taste blood on his tongue, between his teeth. As the back of his head collided with the nearest cliff-face he saw stars, but the sorcerer’s mind was clear enough to conjure an image of Tony: laughing, smiling, teasing. Stephen wanted it to be the last thing he would ever see.

But he couldn’t afford to close his eyes yet. Struggling to stand, Stephen was pulled upright by the Cloak of Levitation, frantically jerking him around to dodge and block blows he couldn’t avoid himself. Stephen would miss having the Cloak as his relic. It would find another master, though, in time.

Stephen barely regained his senses before a burning, large fist wrapped around his neck, lifting him through the air, strangling him. The sorcerer struggled to breathe, to escape his enemy’s clutches as white spots danced in his vision, overwhelming him. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he was beaten, ruthlessly punched, tossed like a rag-doll. His fingers were bleeding. He could barely remember how to cast a defensive spell. 

This is how he would die. He was sure of it. Alone, in an unknown corner of the globe, trying feebly to defend himself from this anonymous foe, made of melting cast-iron and pure magic. No bones to break, no flesh to harm. All Stephen could do was hold his arms in front of his face and take it.  _ He _ had plenty of bones to break and flesh to harm. There wasn’t much left over that hadn’t been already. 

And the only thing he could think of was Tony. The love of his life, back in New York, who had absolutely no idea what was happening to his husband thousands of miles away. There would be no rescue, no escape. Stephen only hoped Tony wouldn’t grieve too much, and his own body would be found for burial. When Stephen died the least the universe could do was give Tony some closure and help him move on. One last request from the Sorcerer Supreme. 

A shit Sorcerer Supreme he was turning out to be. Stephen fell to the ground, nose smacking into a sharp rock, definitely broken. He was choking on his own blood. Couldn’t drag himself to his feet. So he dragged himself forward, his busted fingers clawing at the dirt, the pins now bent, piercing his skin at odd angles, demolished. But he’d felt this pain before. Gritting his teeth, Stephen kept crawling, as fast as he could.

It was pointless. 

That same fiery grip clamped down around his ankles, tugging him back, sending his body arching through the air. He came crashing down. Stephen’s teeth rattled in his skull. Some of them fell from his mouth.

His ears rang, his muscles seared with exertion, his nerves flared with pain. Stephen couldn’t get up, couldn’t  _ move _ . He’d fought as best he could. This was it. 

It was over. 

But the final blow never came. Instead a streak of something, red and gold, plummeted into his vision, and Stephen blinked furiously, trying to keep himself conscious. But it was still too late. 

“Stephen! Stephen don’t you dare-” 

Stephen couldn’t help it. Didn’t  _ want _ to dare. But it was over. It was the end. 

The sorcerer’s eyes slid shut, and his world faded to black.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @androgynousmeme


End file.
